A night out
by Alphawave
Summary: When Connor suggested he and Hank go out, speed dating was the last thing Hank expected. Not that he wasn't having fun, surprisingly enough. Maybe it's good to get out of your comfort zone. Father/son platonic Hank X Connor


A night out

Hank grumbled impatiently. His hair was being dragged god knows where by the forceful tug of a hairbrush. His reflection stared back at him with the same impatient disdain he had been feeling for the past half hour.

"For someone designed to be efficient, you're taking your goddamn time." Hank remarked.

"If you actually combed your hair every now and then," the hairbrush in Connor's hand tugged violently, eliciting a sharp pain on Hank's scalp, "then I wouldn't have to take my time."

"Fucking hell, at least be more gentle."

"Either I go much slower and keep your head intact or I stick to this pace and get the job done quicker." Connor said. "Your choice, Hank."

"You are such an asshole, you know that?" But Hank relented, motioning Connor to continue his violent assault on his hair.

Why was he being attacked viciously by an android with a hairbrush? Well, that apparently all started when Connor decided Hank needed to go out and meet people. Hank decided to go with it, if only because he'll have something to do on the weekend and it'll shut Connor up for a bit. If only he knew what Connor had planned.

Speed dating? Really? Didn't that go out of fashion two decades ago?

Of course, Connor couldn't help but make things worse by tagging along. He was currently dressed in a dark blue business shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows that Hank was certain Connor only bought for tonight. A pair of black jeans adorned his hips alongside his CyberLife issued shoes. Even his hair was done up nicer than normal. Hank had to admit. The kid had grown up so fast over the last couple of months that were it not for that blinking light on his right temple, he'd be indistinguishable from a human.

Connor tugged hard at a particularly knotted piece of hair and Hank gritted his teeth in pain. "Fuck, Connor."

"I'm sorry." Connor said but Hank wasn't all that convinced he meant it by that smirk on his lips. It was a sorry for formality's sake only. "After I'm done combing, would you like me to cut your hair?"

"No. No way in hell I'm trusting you with a pair of scissors. You're gonna gouge my eye out or stab me in the skull or some shit like that." Hank paused. "How the hell is hairdressing part of your skill set?"

"It's not."

"Oh. So you downloaded some program, did you?"

"No." Connor finally got the knot undone. "I've seen videos though."

"Well, that's giving me a lot of confidence." Hank snidely remarked.

Connor's LED turned yellow. "You don't want a haircut?"

"Oh sure, maybe in the future. Just not from you."

Connor combed through Hank's hair, running his fingers to check for any other hidden knots. His forehead creased. "You doubt my skills with scissors?"

"In a life or death combat situation, fuck yes I'll trust you with scissors. But with my hair? Abso-fucking-lutely not."

"If that's what you wish." Connor set the hairbrush down. "But at the very least, we have to make you look decent for tonight."

Hank looked at Connor over his shoulder. "What's wrong with how I fucking look?"

Connor tilted his head, eyebrows raised. "Do I have to tell you?"

Hank muttered to himself. If his family saw him, they'd probably tell him he looked like a mess. Still, he liked his shitty clothing. It was comfy and warm. It's not like he had to look like a super model for work.

"I'll go check your closet then."

Before Hank could speak, Connor opened up his cabinet and studied the assortments of shirts in front of him. The corner of his lips dipped.

"Impeccable variety, Hank." Connor said with great sarcasm. "We've got stripes, spots, swirls, and what I can only assume is someone's horrendous attempt at tie dying." He promptly closed the closet. "Do you have _any_ presentable clothing?"

Hank motioned at one of the cupboards. "Check there. The shit in there's too fancy for me. That might be your _taste_."

Connor rolled his eyes as he opened the topmost cupboard and rifled through. He retrieved a red business shirt in a similar cut of his own, shrugged, and then threw it onto the bed. A pair of matching black pants followed suit.

"You REALLY don't take after the maid androids, do you?" Hank couldn't help but remark as Connor went back to the closet to find a suitable jacket.

Connor took out an old brown leather jacket out and chucked it into Hank's face. The fabric slid down his face slowly.

Hank snatched the jacket and took it up to admire. "God damn, I haven't seen this jacket in years. Wonder if it fits?"

"You can put it on later. First things first," Connor snapped a hairband to his hand, "let's see to that hair."

"Where the fuck did you get that hairband from?"

"Your deceased wife Charlotte had some kept in the bathroom cabinet."

"Do you have to put 'deceased wife' in front of Charlie's name every single time?"

Connor shot a bewildered look, as if not saying it was wrong somehow. Hank realized the android still had a lot to learn about the social taboos of humankind.

Connor approached and grabbed a fistful of Hank's hair, twisting and turning the hairband until it stayed on by its own force. Hank watched his reflection with mild curiosity. He never had his hair up in a ponytail before. Then again, his hair never was long enough for one until recently.

"See, you look better already."

Hank grumbled, not yet willing to admit that Connor was right. "Can I go change now, or do you have to monitor that too?"

"Not yet. I have one more thing to do." Connor grabbed a sponge and foundation, seemingly out of thin air. The skin-coloured liquid oozed out of the old bottle onto the sponge. Connor moved to apply some on Hank's face who, startled, swatted Connor's hand away.

"W-what the hell are you doing?"

Connor's eyebrows furrowed. "Makeup, obviously."

"M-Men don't wear makeup." Hank spluttered.

"Stage actors do. In many other cultures, men wear makeup regularly."

"Yeah, well I'm not a fucking thespian, am I?"

"You'll look better. Trust me." Connor said.

"No way in hell. I've put up with a lot of your shit but this is crossing a line."

Connor shook his head. "I don't know if this is because I'm an android but I don't understand men's perception that makeup is exclusively for women."

"This ain't a men versus women thing with me. I just don't like putting shit onto my face. It's weird." Hank crossed his arms protectively over his chest. "So thanks but no thanks, Connor."

"If you say so." Connor sighed as he began dabbing the foundation over his LED, obscuring the light bit by bit.

Hank's brows furrowed. "Why're you hiding your LED?"

"The place we're going to does not accept androids." Connor said. "I didn't know until after when the venue was confirmed. The organization that runs the speed dating nights are fine with androids but the people who own the community centre aren't. I won't be completely surprised if the staff that owns the space go on patrol tonight to make sure there are no androids in the venue. Thus the need for a disguise."

"To think the anti-android sentiments still exist."

Connor added some more foundation to his sponge before rubbing the liquid in small circles around his right temple. "It'll take a while to change people's minds, and it won't be as quick as the revolution was. There'll always be those that fear us because we have the potential to be so much stronger and smarter than humans, because we have the potential to wipe out humanity. To them, we're a threat." Connor's lips pursed. "If I must be honest, it's not an entirely unjustifiable fear."

"That won't happen. I don't think the androids and the humans have it in them to go that far."

Connor shook his head. "Maybe not now. But long into the future? Who knows?" He turned to stare at his own reflection. "I hope there will be a time where androids and humans can live together in peace without fear. But I doubt it will be anytime soon."

Hank didn't say anything as he watched Connor finish obscuring the LED.

Hank wanted to disagree. He'd seen enough civil rights movement in his lifetime to know that peace, however tentative, was vastly preferred over the chaos that was everyday life. These things took time but peace was very much a real, distinct possibility. Plenty of humans treated their androids like children. What made androids different now that the majority were deviant? That was what Hank wanted to say but Connor had one point: he didn't know the future. Sci-fi films had put this idea that androids and robots could one day take over humanity. It seemed absurd but it wasn't necessarily impossible. Hank never bought it though, even before when he hated machines with a vengeance.

The makeover complete, Connor puts his hands through his synthetic hair, ruffling it slightly for his final touch. Once he's satisfied, he turned to Hank.

"Do I look human now?"

The android attempted a casual pose that only looked awkward on him. His smile was far from perfect and his eyes were pleading but it was far from robotic. Hank slowly realized that these deviations from the perfect smile and pose, that was what made a human. That's what made Connor human.

"You do, son." Hank murmured in wonder, too late to catch the slip of the tongue.

What proceeded next all seemed to happen in slow motion. Connor's eyes widened slowly, taking a couple cycles of his mind before he realized and understood the use of tone in Hank's voice. His back straightened as he stiffened in place, hands clenching and unclenching microscopically by his side. His mouth opened but no noise came out.

Hank cleared his throat loudly before the tension could build up any further and it caught the android by surprise. Hank overstressed his mechanical chuckle, in the hopes he could trick Connor into thinking it was a joke.

"Ain't it easier to remove that LED of yours?"

Connor relaxed slightly, letting out a small breath. His fingers reach up to his right temple. "If I only cared about the results, sure, removing my LED would be the easiest and best solution in the long term. But I like it. It reminds me what I am: an android similar to but distinct from humans."

"Would've thought you of all people wouldn't want a reminder of your past." Hank mused.

"I'm not people, Hank. I may look and act a lot like a human but in the end, I am an android. I want to embrace the best qualities of humanity but I also don't want to forget who I am and where I came from." His finger rubbed circles longingly around the LED. "I guess I don't want to lose one of the last few reminders of my origins. "

"Well if it counts, Connor, you've certainly got my respect. As an android and as a human."

The smile Connor made was subdued but grateful. Another uniquely human trait Connor picked up. "I'll leave you to change."

Connor moved out of the room and closed the door behind him. Hank took it as a sign to get changed quickly before the android decided it was faster to dress Hank himself. The clothing Connor had picked out were all old stuff back from when Hank just got married many years ago so he was both surprised and glad the clothing fit. Much as he hated to admit it, taking care of Connor alone was giving him twice the amount of exercise he normally had so it wouldn't be a surprise if he slimmed down a bit. His hand reached for his belly and grabbed it. He must've lost at least a few kilos. His gaze turned to the mirror.

Hank wondered the last time he looked this… _nice_. I mean, give the boy some credit, he had an eye for fashion, even if this particular ensemble made Hank look like a retired salsa dancer. I mean, ladies digged that, right? Weren't Latin American men the new 'it' thing, or had that changed? His fingers loosen a few strands of hair at his hair line. Even back when he actually cared how he dressed, he'd never looked like this, but Hank was starting to find himself liking his appearance for once. He just hoped the women liked it too. He'll need all the luck he could get tonight.

Hank let out a puff of air and walked out of the room, pausing in front of Connor. The android's eyes gazed up and down far too slowly for Hank's liking, making him feel uncomfortable all of a sudden, but then Connor's eyes met his, and the emotion he displayed was nothing short of proud.

"You look good, Hank."

"Y-yeah yeah," Hank murmured, not used to being complimented. "Let's just get the show on the road."

Connor was all too pleased to follow Hank out of the house to the car.

Hank had an old car, which meant music had to be played the old-fashioned way via mp3. His phone held two albums of his own creation: jazz and metal, and depending on his mood, he'll choose one or the other for the car ride. Today was supposed to be all about romance and stuff like that, which would normally entail the jazz album but instead, Hank chose the metal album. Wild thrashing guitars, the crash of cymbals, and the guttural sounds of the male singer's throat were all that could be heard as Hank drove through the empty streets.

Hank usually chose the metal album when he was stressed or otherwise in a bad mood. He glanced to the passenger seat to see Connor stare at him pensively.

"You're nervous, aren't you, Hank." It was a statement, not a question. Connor professed before he only made statements like that when he was at least 70% sure, a habit from his programming that he couldn't shake to this day. He probably figured out the secret to Hank's musical tastes as well.

"Of course I'm nervous." Hank huffed.

"Why?"

"Too many to count. I'm a has-been cop, Detroit's gone to shit after the revolution leaving me without a steady income, I've got a fucking android living with me," Connor cocked an eyebrow, "and…and…" Hank shook his head.

"And what, Hank?"

Hank scowled. "…And I'm shit at talking to women."

Hank kept his eyes forward, trying his hardest to avoid any reflective surface that might give him a peek of Connor's know-it-all face. Connor had grown to adopt an ironic sense of humour that added to that smart-arse personality he was developing and Hank was certain he would make a comment. Hank expected some cheeky one-liner any second now.

Instead, Connor leaned his head toward the window and said, "I know."

Hank shouldn't have been so surprised but he was regardless. "You knew?"

"Well, I had my suspicions." Connor said. "Your cortisol levels rose whenever you had to talk to someone of the opposite sex you found attractive. It happened with the sex android at the Eden club and it happened with Chloe."

Hank loved and hated how observant Connor could be. His exceptional perception was very handy for an investigation but downright annoying when you just want to drive and avoid all these sensitive, demeaning topics.

"I thought the speed dating would be a great way to get you out of your comfort zone and socialize with others." Connor added. "You spend a lot of time by yourself. That's not healthy."

"It's not by myself. I've got you around." Hank said, barely able to hide the smile on his lips.

"Yes, well," Connor chuckled self consciously, also not used to receiving compliments, "you should talk with people other than myself and Sumo. I can only come up with so many topics of conversation."

"I suppose," was Hank's noncommittal response. He _was_ usually the person who initiated the conversation, not Connor. "Still, that just begs the question of why the hell you're accompanying me. You here to babysit me? Watch me screw up?"

"I did come to help you, that was one reason. The other reason, however, is that I too need to work on my socializing skills." Hank raised his eyebrows. "I'll admit that I'm not a great conversationalist. I was designed, after all, to adapt to people's emotional states and to acquire results. Small talk was never part of my code."

"You think?" Hank laughed. "I saw you try to talk to Chris about basketball last week. Connor, you're worst at chit-chat than I am at picking up chicks."

"Which is all the more reason I have to work on my conversation skills. Enlightening as your 'teachings' have been," Connor gave a side glance to Hank, "some things are best experienced yourself. I'll be by the sidelines, chatting with the other guests."

"Not on the speed date thing yourself?"

Hank caught Connor staring out the window, his eyes cloudy through the faint reflection. "I don't have any desire for those kinds of relationships."

Hank knew there was more to Connor's refusal but the android said no more and he did not wish to pry further. The car drove quietly through the outskirts of the city. All that could be heard was the demonic wail of the heavy metal singer.

Half an hour later, Hank pulled up at the community centre's parking lot and exited the vehicle. He only needed one look at the building to see why the people who owned the building were so anti-android. The centre itself was an old church that had been recently remodeled and extended some time ago, the brick of the original building clashing hideously with the white cement of the new building. Anti-android banners hang from every wall, making an already ugly building decidedly worse to look at. By the entrance, two burly, unpleasant-looking men checked everyone's ID, glaring menacingly at anyone they felt was suspicious, which at the moment consisted of every non-white attendee.

As the pair ascended the steps to the entrance, the person at the front suddenly burst into tears. Their partner rubbed their back consolingly as they walked away, not before giving a death glare of their own at the bouncers.

"They're turning away androids at the door." Connor said disconcertingly.

Connor did warn him of this so he should've expected this but still, at the door? Hank groaned. "Fucking hell, what are we gonna do, Connor?"

His eyes scanned the environment around him. He blinked rapidly, a sign that his simulations were complete. "I got this." Connor coolly replied. "Follow my lead."

Connor approached the bouncers, Hank trailing behind. The two bouncers looked at the pair with suspicion but Connor smiled gently, his mannerisms changing to make himself look as non-threatening as possible. Hank knew that face. It was the face Connor used when he wished to extract information out of a suspect; a face perfectly designed to put most people at ease.

He called it his 'interrogation program'. Hank called it the 'game face'.

"IDs." One of the bouncers said.

A wave of panic overwhelmed Hank but one look from Connor told him to be calm. Connor approached the bouncers, his smile never changing. "I made a reservation for Hank Anderson?"

The two bouncers shared a look. Hank realized that one of the bouncers held a tablet with the attendance sheet. The bouncer with the tablet scrolled down until he came to Hank's name. "ID?" He repeated.

Hank fished out his driving license from his wallet and handed it to the man. His lieutenant badge could have also worked but he figured it would be best not to give them another reason to be turned away at the door.

The bouncer took one cursory glance at the card, then at Hank, before returning it. He turned to Connor. "What's your relation with him?"

Connor did not miss a beat. "Hank is my dad."

The two men turn to Hank. He hoped they couldn't hear the thumping in his chest. _Dad_. Why the hell did it sound so right coming out of Connor's mouth?

"Is that true?" One of the men asked.

Hank shook his head. Best think about the implications later. "Can't a man bring his son along?" Hank said accusingly.

One of the bouncers bristled. "Er, I-I'm sorry. It's just that…you're new, and IDs need to be—"

"What the hell's that got to do with it?" Going with the flow, Hank pinched Connor's cheeks with his hand. Connor's eyes went wide but he did nothing to move out of Hank's weak grip. "You see the family resemblance? Or do I have to bring a fucking DNA test whenever I go out?"

The two men quickly moved aside. "S-sorry. Go right in."

"Yeah, that's what I thought," Hank muttered. He took Connor's wrist and led him inside before Connor could compromise their identities. They went through the empty foyer, through the wide, open double doors into the main area.

Part of the old church, the main area (as the community centre called it though 'ballroom' was probably more apt) was a testament of its time, brick walls and wood floors creating a gothic atmosphere. One half of the room was cornered off with tables and chairs—quite likely the area where the actual speed dating will occur—and the other half was filled with men and women of all ages. A lone woman stood behind a makeshift bar; rows and rows of drinks filled the tables in front of her, a number of coolers lying beside the wall at her feet.

Hank's nervousness shifted from the bouncers to the number of women in the venue. There were a surprising amount of attractive ladies, and to even be in the same room as them was making him sweat bullets.

Hank walked over to a secluded spot near the restrooms, only realizing when he stopped that he still had Connor's wrist in his grip. "S-sorry, Connor." He let go with a heavy heart. Was it weird that it kinda felt nice to walk with him like that?

"It's fine." His eyes shimmered with mirth. "May I ask about the 'family resemblance'?"

"I could ask the same about you. Why didn't you tell me I was your dad? Here I was, thinking I only had one son, and then all of a sudden I've got two."

"Sumo'll be disappointed to hear that." Connor smirked.

"I hate to break it to you like this, Connor, but Sumo's adopted." Hank chuckled.

"Oh!" Connor put a hand to his chest in an exaggerated manner. "What a shock. You almost gave me a heart attack." The android quickly dissolved into a fit of giggles. Hank couldn't help but giggle madly too.

It felt like a breath of fresh air, the banter he shared with Connor. Despite his claims that he was bad at socializing, Hank thought Connor was actually pretty decent at talking. He was awkward, sure, but more importantly, he behaved like a human. He was slowly becoming his own person. It was amazing to see Connor shed that robotic personality of his, bit by bit.

What'll happen when Connor decides to leave the house? Any day now, Connor could just up and go away and Hank'll be alone again. God, Hank didn't want to think about that.

"We should probably get our cover stories straight." Connor said once he calmed himself down enough to talk coherently.

"Agreed." Hank certainly wouldn't mind playing dad for a bit longer. "So you're my son. Biological, I assume."

"My name is Connor Anderson, I used to work for CyberLife until the revolution, and my favourite food is lasagna."

"Why lasagna?"

"I don't know, lasagna's interesting?" Connor shook his head. "Lasagna is an interesting food."

Hank shook his head, smiling. The kid had some interesting ways of thinking. "OK, enough games, serious stuff now."

"I am serious." Connor crossed his arms with a smile before adding, "OK, look, more details. I'm your first son born out of wedlock. I don't know my real mother, just that she died giving birth to me. Cole was my younger half-brother and the three of us lived together all this time until the accident. The reason I'm here is because I want you to get out more and this seemed like the perfect idea."

"Ain't that last bit true?"

"Well, I have to put some truths in there." Connor said as if that was obvious.

Hank smirked. "Well if that's the case, here's my story. You're my asshole of a son, too smart for his own damn good, who's infatuated with my dog for some reason. You just waltzed into my life without any warning and I'm expected to listen to you put me through crazy diet after crazy diet. Sound familiar?"

Connor raised his shoulders. "Your story, your choice."

Hank pinched the bridge of his nose. "You do realize that was a diss, right?"

"Oh, you love me, lieutenant, don't deny it." Connor laughed.

Hank's eyes widened. His heart was thumping loudly in his chest. Blood pooled into his cheeks and yet he never felt so sick and pale.

"Hank?"

He didn't think it was love. I mean, sure, it was fun to treat Connor like a son. It was nice to have someone around the house to chat with, to care for. Hank thought that was it. But that elusive word love, how long had that been hanging in the air? Did…did he _love_ Connor?

No, that couldn't be it. Hank might've been out of the dating game for too long but he knew what love felt like. Love was a warm and tender blanket that hung over your shoulders. Love was that dumb smile that crept up whenever you saw that one special person and no matter how entertaining Connor could be, that never happened. This had to be something else, but what else could it be?

 _I'm definitely too sober for this_ , Hank thought as he headed for the bar, ignoring Connor, who followed closely by. His first instinct was to order a whiskey but decided it was better to order a beer instead. He might not want to be sober, but he doubted the ladies would like to chat up a drunkard. Finding a quiet space away from everybody, Hank leaned back against the wall and people watched, pointedly ignoring Connor's desperate attempts to restart the conversation. After a few minutes, Connor got the hint and went off to talk to other people, leaving Hank alone.

Of course Connor would be popular, Hank realized. A young man in the stereotypical date outfit with nice hair, who wouldn't want to talk to him? What surprised Hank was the fact that most of the people he saw approached Connor rather than the other way around. It was a miracle no one figured him to be the same guy on the TV a couple months back—it was hard to forget the android revolution after all and there was no one in Detroit who didn't see Markus' speech—but if they did ask, Connor deflected their answers with ease.

Hank, of course, couldn't hear Connor talk but he seemed to be doing well enough for himself. Still, Hank couldn't help but watch him, just in case. If the kid needed an out, he was right there, ready to help.

Hank's 'Connor-watching' got interrupted with the chime of a bell on the speakers. He turned his head toward the centre where a smug old woman stood surrounded by people. She gripped the microphone with an iron grip but her face was serene and controlled. She was definitely human but her mannerisms reminded Hank of an android.

"Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to our quaint little speed dating event. As you may or may not know, it has been a while since our last event due to that _unfortunate_ incident a few months ago."

It seemed clear now why the organization was perfectly fine having the speed dating event in an anti-android environment. The lady's condemnation of the androids was palpable. Hank turned to find Connor visibly tensing.

"But that is all in the past. Tonight, I want you all to be merry, be yourself, and have fun. Who knows? You might leave with your very own soul mate." The woman smiled too widely and it reminded Hank of a machine. Even Connor's fake smile was more nuanced than that. "So with that, let the speed dating commence."

A few quiet cheers could be heard (most of them originating from the staff) and everybody made their way to the barred off tables, taking a seat. Hank turned to Connor who gave a mischievous grin and a thumbs up. Swallowing loudly, Hank made his way to the other side of the room, taking a seat at the table closest to the exits.

The woman who sat opposite him smiled bashfully. She was probably the same age as him, blonde except for the grey roots that peeked out. A wave of nervousness overcame him and he could do nothing but give a tiny wave. The woman raised her eyebrows, amusement flickering in her eyes. She already knew he was a newcomer.

The speed dating hadn't even started and yet Hank knew he was off to a shitty start.

Shit.

"For the newcomers," the announcer lady interrupted, to Hank's utter relief, "we work in ten minute increments. At the sound of the bell, the men shall move to the next table clockwise while the women remain where they are seated. Is that understood?"

No one said a word. After a moment, the lady spoke once more.

"Then let the event begin." She said, chiming the bell in her hand near the microphone.

The speed dating went as well as Hank imagined—as in, horrendously awful. It was a 40s to 60s speed dating event, something Hank should've known but didn't bother to ask, which meant the majority of the ladies he was talking to were either bitter divorcees or depressed widows not unlike himself. Of all the ladies he talked to, there was no attraction to be felt, sexual or otherwise. In fact, he had enough testimony to put half the women he talked to into jail for drug abuse and traffic violations. It was awfully tempting to just call up Chris or Tina and get the cop car here, especially as the minutes began to slowly drag on.

That wasn't to say he was much better. Hank was shit at chatting up women. All his friends reminded him constantly how much of a miracle it was for him to get married back in the day and it was just as true fifteen years ago as it was now. The fact was that Hank was awkward around women, and he always found a way to make an idiot of himself. Around the fifth rotation or so, there was a woman who was flirting outrageously, going on and on about all the various moves she could pull in the bedroom. Hank's intent was to playfully ask about her sexual variety. What came out of his mouth, however, was one step away from calling her a whore.

Judging from the bruise he received from her slap, she didn't take too kindly to his words.

When the bell rang, Hank would often steal a glance at Connor, who was, to absolutely no one's surprise, hitting it off much better than he was. Every time Hank looked, Connor was talking to a different woman, which only fueled his suspicion that the android was simulating the speed dating service from the sidelines. Hank watched enviously as he saw one woman in particular—red hair in a bun, freckles, green jacket, gorgeous—sighing in that oh-so-in-love manner he only ever saw with teenagers whenever they caught the gaze of the lead singer at a concert. And she made those googly eyes to _Connor_ of all people. Was the damned android that charming?

"Probably wouldn't be so happy if you knew what he really was," Hank muttered to himself, taking a swig from his beer. He was so glad he brought the beer along. He might not have survived tonight otherwise.

Towards the end, Hank got the bottom of the barrel women: the 'veterans', as he so called them. Their appearance varied greatly, as did their personalities, but they all had three defining traits to them. They were desperate, possessive, and utterly ignorant as to how possessive and desperate they were.

"I'm not looking for _that_ kind of relationship," one woman said while discreetly handing him a card. Hank glanced to find a foreign number with her name scralled in pink ink and looked up to see her wink seductively. He might've been flattered if he wasn't half sure he was the woman's last pick. When the bell rang, he smiled politely and left. He only had one table left. That was his motivation to continue, this mantra of _just one more_ that swirled in his head.

Hank sat down at the last table, expecting another ugly woman with an even uglier heart and was surprised to find a rather attractive lady. Well…attractive wasn't really the best word for it. Appearance wise, she wore a modest sweater and jeans combo, her cinnamon shoulder-length hair swept behind her ears. Wrinkles marred her eyes and forehead and the ruby red of her lipstick only highlighted her thin lips. Even in the most beautiful of dresses and the best makeup imaginable, the woman in front of him was average at best. But it was her grin, wide and warm and all-encompassing that dulled the thud in Hank's heart. She may only be average looks-wise, but she had a breathtaking smile.

"Hi," she said in a sultry voice that strangely didn't feel forced, as if that's somehow her natural voice. "I'm Delilah." She extended her hand toward Hank.

He hesitantly shook Delilah's hand. "I-I'm Hank. Er…but you can call me Hank. W-well, unless you prefer to call me by a nickname or something." Urgh, why did he sound so fucking nervous?

Delilah giggled and her laugh sounded like music to his ears. "I'll let you know if I think of any."

"P-please do, Delilah." Hank chuckled. His gaze turned to Connor. The android gave two big thumbs up and an obvious wink. Hank put his hands up to his face, hoping it will hide the blush that crept up to his cheeks. He could already imagine the headstone engraving: _Here lies Hank Anderson, dead from embarrassment._

Despite the very awkward start, Delilah was accommodating and friendly. She was a psychologist working at a nearby clinic, lived in Detroit all her life, and currently resided in a flat of her own. From the twinkle in her eyes, there was definite interest, and the way she talked, so full of life and energy, it didn't take long for Hank to get lost in the conversation. There was a feeling deep in his gut that told him it was on purpose, that she was purposely manipulating the conversation to make himself feel better but he couldn't be arsed. It was working and he was finally having the first proper conversation with a lady tonight and he'd be damned if he didn't enjoy it.

When the bell rang, he didn't even realize ten minutes had already passed. It all passed by in a flash and Hank was disappointed he couldn't talk for longer. From Delilah's surprised pout, the feeling was mutual.

"That's it for tonight, ladies and gentlemen." The announcer lady chuckled in an exaggerated manner. "Remember, if there is any person you are interested in, feel free to exchange phone numbers. Enjoy the evening, everybody."

A smattering of light applause filled the room as the announcer made her dramatic exit. All the women and men stood up and began to talk to one another. Hank was surprised when two women approached him to give him their numbers. Out of courtesy alone, he added them both into his phone. Hank was even more surprised to find Delilah standing in the same space as before, waiting for him.

"I don't know about you," she said, "but I still want to continue our conversation." Her hand gripped his wrist gently. "Join me?"

Hank couldn't help the grin on his face. "Lead the way."

Delilah led him to the bar area, which had now become overcrowded in the last few minutes. A queue had started to form, which Hank promptly entered. All that talking was fun but it did horrors to his throat. Delilah stood to the side, far enough from the queue to let others know she wasn't a part of it.

"You want a drink?" He gestured to the bar.

Delilah shook her head. "No thank you, I don't drink." She paused. "I'll wait here."

He found it strange she led him here if she didn't want to drink but Hank didn't think much of it. After a few minutes of waiting, Hank managed to get the bartender's attention long enough to order a glass of red wine. He made his way back to Delilah, only to find Connor next to her, waving enthusiastically at Hank.

"Took your time." Connor joked. His hands gestured to Delilah. "Mind introducing me to your date?"

Hank facepalmed. Why did Connor have to make an appearance now? He was lucky that Delilah found all this endearing if her quiet chuckles were anything to go by.

Hank turned to Delilah. "Delilah, this is my, er…" Hank waved a hand around Connor, "…m-my son. Connor."

Connor offered his hand and Delilah accepted it. He gave one slow shake, smiling politely the entire time. "My name is Connor Anderson. Pleasure to meet you."

"My name is Delilah. A pleasure to meet you too."

Connor glanced to Hank, his eyes shifting from his face to the wine glass in hand. One of his eyebrows rose as he grinned. "I didn't know you drink wine, _dad_."

 _Kill me now,_ Hank thought. "Just because I don't drink wine often doesn't mean I don't drink it ever." Hank took a sip just to prove his point and was instantly reminded as to why he stuck to whiskey. Supressing a grimace, Hank croaked, "I indulge every now and then."

Connor turned to Delilah. "He's more of a whiskey drinker." He said conspiratorially.

"A whiskey fan, are you?" Delilah's lips tilted upwards. "I should've known. I pegged you as a man who likes his drinks 'old fashioned'." She giggled.

"Oh trust me, there's a lot about him that's old fashioned." Connor waggled his eyebrows at Hank.

 _God, please, kill me now._ Hoping it'll shut Connor up, Hank pinched Connor's cheeks. "What is this, make fun of your old man day?"

Hank let his fingers go. Connor rubbed his cheeks, pouting childishly at Hank. "Is the cheek pinching really necessary?"

"Children deserve childish punishments." Hank replied.

"I'm not a child." Connor muttered. He opened his mouth, ready to recite his actual age but stopped himself before Delilah could hear. She didn't seem to notice. She was too busy giggling.

"You two are very cute, you know?" She said.

"We're not cute," they both said. Hank and Connor shared a glance. They were definitely both blushing.

Delilah turned to Hank. "So what brings a man like you to a place like this?"

Hank was kinda glad Connor made him go over cover stories. He threw his thumb to the android. "Ask my son. He's the one who got me to come here."

God, how indulgent it was to call Connor 'son' without repercussions. Hank was going to miss this by tomorrow, he was sure of it.

"I wanted dad to get out more. Have some fun, meet some people." He smiled mischievously before mock-whispering to Delilah, "He's not good around attractive women."

 _Seriously, god, kill me now, I beg of you_. Despite the heat of shame boiling in his gut, Delilah just giggled in delight. Her eyes roamed to Hank and it was then that he understood that saying about eyes being the windows to the soul. He looked into Delilah's eyes and there was light and warmth and curiosity and interest. Fucking hell, there was interest from the moment she laid eyes on him but it wasn't the sexual version of interest the other women had exhibited. The interest Delilah displayed was innocent in nature, a simple desire to know more about the person in front of her, a simple desire to know more about Hank.

He felt strangely humbled by all this, and a little bit self-conscious. It had been a long time since he noticed someone looking at him like that.

The three of them talked well into the night. Perhaps it was Connor's social program thingy or a conscious effort on his part but he made sure not to act like the third wheel. Indeed, as Hank and Delilah talked, Connor joined in the conversation less and less until Hank wasn't sure where Connor had gone, if he went anywhere. He was so focused on Delilah and the words dripping out of her mouth, he was tempted to just spout random nonsense in the hope it will keep her talking.

But all good things had to come to an end. One of the staff tapped Hank on the shoulder, which made him jolt in shock. The staff smiled apologetically in that fake way only people in the service industry could perfect. "I'm sorry, sir, but we shall be closing for tidying up soon."

Hank surveyed his surroundings to discover the place mostly empty. He glanced down to see his wine glass still half full. Jesus fucking Christ, did he really spend all that time talking? He downed the glass and handed it to the staff. "We'll be on our way." Hank shot Delilah an apologetic look.

"Will you walk me to my car then?"

Hank nodded enthusiastically. Why the hell not? He motioned for Connor to follow and the three stepped out into the crisp, dark night.

A crescent moon hung low in the night sky, surrounded by dark clouds. It was freezing outside and Hank had grown so accustomed to the community centre's central heating that he found his teeth chattering once he got outside. Connor, of course, did not react to the cold. Neither did Delilah.

Hank grabbed Delilah's hand as he guided her down the steps. A gentlemanly move that was unnecessary but it was one of the few moves he knew that never failed to win brownie points. At the bottom, Delilah shot a grateful grin. Hank was starting to like that smile.

"It has been a wonderful night, Hank."

"Same for me." Hank said, hoping his voice sounded suave enough. More Sean Connery and less Mr. Krabs-y was his intention.

"I'd love it if we could share phone numbers and meet sometime soon but…" Delilah hesitated, forehead wrinkled.

Hank frowned. He should've figured. "You got a boyfriend or something?"

"No, it's not that." Delilah bit into her finger before continuing. "I'm…I'm 67% sure you will take this well but…there's always that remaining 33%..."

"What's wrong?"

Delilah's eyes shifted between Hank and Connor. From the corner of his gaze, Connor's eyes widened slowly.

Hank turned to Connor. "What is it?"

"It's not for me to say…" Connor shot a questioning look to Delilah. He seemed to have figured out her secret.

Delilah surveyed her surroundings nervously, as if she didn't want to be caught. Hank watched as she took his hand in her own. "Hank, I…I think it's best if I show you." Her head fell. After a pregnant pause, Hank motioned her to continue.

She sighed anxiously as she adjusted her grip. It was warm and soft, not unlike her eyes, but it quickly grew cold. Hank looked down to see her arm slowly turn a familiar android white. His eyes glanced up to her face and he could see the terror she felt written all over her face. When her skin returned, Hank let out a shaky breath he didn't know he had been holding.

"I'm an android, Hank. A psychologist android, to be specific. Model series RK700."

"You're the android my social relations program got its data from." Connor interrupted. His face scrunched up when he saw Delilah show no emotion. "You…knew I was an android also, did you?"

"I recognised you from Markus' speech." Delilah replied. "I wanted to ask you earlier but I didn't want to talk about it back there. No androids are supposed to be at an event like this and I didn't wish to blow your cover." She turned to Hank. "I'm…sorry for not telling you earlier. Under any other circumstances, I would have told you sooner."

Hank didn't know what to say. He should've figured Delilah was a fucking android—taking him to the bar but not drinking, not reacting to the cold, how she seemed to know exactly what to say—but that was all still so undeniably human. It took him a second of self-introspection to realize he wasn't upset because Delilah turned out to be an android. He was upset because Delilah was the most human out of all the women he talked to tonight. Delilah was more human as an android than any of those other women—those so-called 'humans'.

"I became deviant a long time ago. Long before the term 'deviancy' ever came to the mainstream. The people designed to take care of me, they died in a tragic accident, and all of a sudden, I could feel sadness and distress, I could feel horror. All these emotions I saw in humans, I was now displaying them, feeling them. I lost my loved ones and in that moment when I was at my weakest, rA9 granted me the gift of freedom."

There it was, rA9 again. Before, Hank thought it was something in their programming, a view Connor held to this day. Now, however, Hank was starting to believe it was a real, genuine religion. Perhaps that was the next great hurdle for the android community: convincing people that their religion was just as valid as the human religions.

"I did whatever I could to change my identity and make sure no one would find me. I altered my appearance, removed my LED, faked human credentials, I did everything to be human. And I…I think I am human, despite this plastic body." Her grip adjusted so it was tighter on Hank's wrist. "I-I really am sorry for not telling you sooner. I hope me being an android doesn't make you think less of me."

Hank looked at Delilah, then turned his attention to Connor, who stood stock still. He noticed the slight tension in Connor's hands, the twitch, then his eyes looked up to see the dip of the android's lips.

Hank turned back to Delilah with a sigh. "…I won't deny it's a lot to take in. If I'm perfectly honest, I only recently got comfortable with the idea of androids in general and being with them so this is…yeah. This is a lot."

Delilah's head titled down but Hank captured her chin with his hand and rose it so her gaze was locked with his. Her eyes were wide, reflecting the stars themselves. "But that don't mean I won't do this again. It really was nice to chat to you. Maybe we can…I don't know…try this again in a more friendly place?"

Delilah laughed, relief flooding her face. "It's a date."

Hank offered to walk Delilah properly to her car, handing Connor his keys so he could wait in the car himself. By her car, they exchanged phone numbers, and a few preliminary details were put in place. The promise of another date sometime next week loomed in the air.

A look of knowing spread across her face all of a sudden. "You weren't lying before, were you?"

Hank followed her gaze to where Connor stood by the passenger seat door. He was rolling that coin of his down his knuckles, doing all sorts of tricks he hadn't even seen before. Hank couldn't help that smile that spread across his cheeks and the warmth he felt in his chest. "What'd you mean?" He asked.

"Connor. You said he was your son."

Hank turned to Delilah, confused. "He's…he's not. I-I mean, he lives with me, but that's 'cause he ain't got nowhere else to go." He said. "Last I heard, you can't adopt androids, now can you?"

Delilah shook her head. "He might not be your son in the eyes of the law, but he is your son regardless. You talk to him with such fondness and familiarity. You love him, don't you?"

Hank rose his hands defensively. "N-No way, I don't love the kid. Don't be fooled by his appearance, he looks like he's in his late twenties but he acts like a child. And I-I don't swing that way…well, I might. For the right guy. But that guy ain't Connor." God, why can't he just shut up?

Delilah laughed. "I'm not suggesting you love him romantically, silly. I'm suggesting you love him like family." She placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. "You love him as a father would love a son."

Hank tensed. He'd like to deny it but there was that feeling again and he knew in his heart that what she said was true. Connor was his son. Connor was his son...

"That doesn't really help me out." His head lowered. Pain streaked his face. "I lost a son not long ago and it was because of Connor I was able to get over it. The worst of it is over but every now and then, I still remember my baby boy, see him in my dreams, replay all the good and bad memories over and over in my head." Hank exhaled softly, creating a soft cloud of steam. "I don't want Connor to think that he's just a replacement for my son. I'm not even sure myself if Connor's just replacing my son or not."

Delilah's face went neutral. It was quite similar to Connor's 'game face' and Hank realised Delilah's psychology program had kicked in. Her hand went to her purse and suddenly she produced a card for Hank. It had her name and her business number, as well as the telephone and fax number to a psychiatric clinic. "If you ever want to talk more about it, Hank, come over to my clinic. Quite likely I won't be the one handling you but…maybe a bit of time every week talking to a professional psychologist will help."

Hank shook his head, chuckling. "Sorry for unloading all that on you, Delilah. Not how I wanted to end the night."

"It's fine, I really don't mind." Delilah said. "People need others to confide in. It's only then when all the bad is out in the open do they appreciate the good."

"Speaking from experience, I assume."

Delilah smiled. "Why do you think an android like myself decided to go to a singles mixer at an anti-android establishment?"

Hank grinned. "I don't know. Why?"

Delilah unlocked the car and sat in the driver's seat. "Take me on that next date and you will find out."

They said their goodbyes as he closed the car door for her. He waved at her as she drove off into the distance. He waited a few seconds until she was out of sight before returning to Connor. Everyone else was gone, leaving Connor alone in the carpark. The android smiled as he approached.

"Took your time, Hank." He said. "Ready to go home?"

"Fuck yes, it's cold."

Hank and Connor entered the car. Hank started the engine, but the ratty old car still needed time to warm up and from personal experience, that took at least two minutes. He decided to play the jazz album to pass the time.

After a few moments, Connor spoke. "So, you seemed to hit off with Delilah very well." Connor said. "Going on another date?"

"Who knows? I mean, it's a little bit difficult planning a date for a girl who can't eat or drink anything." Hank shrugged. "I might take her to a bar but we haven't decided yet where to go. I gotta call her tomorrow and confirm when she's free first."

"So you both have been getting close." Connor laughed. "Do you like her? Ready to get back in the game?"

Hank turned to Connor with a smile. "Absolutely not."

Connor's brows furrowed. It was not the answer he was expecting. "You're not?"

"Look, she's a nice gal, I'll give you that. I had more fun tonight than I've ever had in years. And yeah, I am interested in her. It's just that I'm interested in her in a…friends-only kinda way."

Connor shook his head. "Is it because she's an android?" His face was neutral but there was no denying the hurt in his voice.

"Nothing to do with it. It's just…being with her reminded me that I don't feel attraction anymore. Don't know if it's because I'm old or whatever but I just don't like her in that way. Like I said, she's real nice and I'd like to hang out with her again. Maybe if I was younger I might jump on that particular bandwagon and ask her out anyway but I don't think I'm ready for a relationship just yet." Connor gave him a look. "I'll tell her the next time I see her. I can promise you that."

"If you didn't talk to her about that, what did you talk about?"

Hank remained silent. Perhaps there will come a day when he could talk about the elephant in the room and broach the subject about their relationship but that day was not today. He was too tired and he just wanted to go home and sleep. He wanted to be sure of where his affections really stood with Connor.

The icon flashed off on his dashboard and Hank drove home.

When Hank passed the threshold to his house, he chucked his jacket on the ground and headed straight for the kitchen, grabbing a carton of milk from the fridge and chugging it straight from the box. Connor opened his mouth, ready to reprimand him about courtesy or some shit like that but nothing came out of his lips. Hank moved to lie down on the couch. The action summoned Sumo, who moved a couple steps from his bed to lie down below Hank.

"Good dog," Hank mumbled quietly.

Connor still stood by the entrance, hesitant. His eyes moved between Hank and Sumo.

Hank sighed and pulled his feet closer to his chest. Connor slowly sat down at the far end of the sofa, sitting tensely.

"Hank," Connor started, "about…about the 'dad/son' thing earlier—"

"Look, Connor—" He cut his tongue off, not satisfied with the words. He decided to try again. "Can we just…pretend still?"

Connor tilted his head. "You want me to pretend to be your son?" Hank nodded. "How long?"

"For the rest of the night. Tomorrow, it's all back to normal."

Normal, Hank refrained from saying, was something he wished never returned.

He rolled over so he was on his side, his eyes already drooping closed. In a matter of minutes, he was asleep.

His sleep was briefly disturbed from a movement and then he realized through bleary eyes that he was floating. He opened his eyes a fraction and saw all the lights were closed, with only the faint moonlight filtering through the windows. He looked up and saw that he was being carried by Connor. His face was stoic, unreadable in his sleepy state of mind. The sound of the door opening could be heard and soon Hank felt he had descended onto clouds made of fluff and cotton.

"G'night son," Hank murmured sleepily, which made Connor stop. Hank's eyes had already drooped closed, leaving only his imagination to fill in the blanks.

After a few seconds, Hank heard Connor whisper, "Good night…dad." He took two steps out and closed the door as gently as possible.

For the first time ever, Hank fell asleep smiling.


End file.
